


Rhalgr Mourns

by momomomodi, Sphinxriddle



Series: The No Good Very Bad Absolutely Terrible AU collection [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Can you say ouch, Character Death, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Gen, Heavy Angst, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momomomodi/pseuds/momomomodi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphinxriddle/pseuds/Sphinxriddle
Summary: What if Ser Haurchefant Greystone was not fast enough?A question we asked ourselves, and thought too much on and now we are here.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Series: The No Good Very Bad Absolutely Terrible AU collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619092
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Rhalgr Mourns

The light of the spear was brilliant, scalding blue. It burned through the air, crackling aether swarming like a haze of anger. Haurchefant looked, panicked to where Zephirin stood. Danica lept through the air, her spear guiding her path. Aveline watched with horrified eyes as the two sailed. Connected. Crashed. The light was blinding, a cacophony of brilliant aether as light met armour. It happened in the blink of an eye. Within seconds, the Ala Mhigan was pinned to the stone of the Vault, blood seeping from the wound in her chest. Aveline stood, still as a statue, watching as the lifeblood and aether of her dear friend pooled underneath her on the cool stone. 

Crumbled, like a paper doll one had decided was not to their liking, and thrown into the fire. Her spear, tumble across the walkway, abandoned, its tip glistening with blood never ment for its blade. The world seemed to stand still as if Hydaelyn herself had stopped spinning at the unexpectedness of the sudden, and brutal, stop. As if surprised, really, that the one who she gifted with foresight, was so easily felled. 

What came next was a scream. Ear-splitting and soul-scarring. Gurgled and blocked by blood, pooling in the recesses of her lungs. 

Ser Haurchefant found he could not move. Statuelike, frozen at the horror. Only jostled back to conscious movement when shoved to the ground by her fellow dragoon. Estinien ran towards her, throwing his helm and spear to the ground as he reached her. Grasping her to his metal lap, trying hard to free her from the pinning grasp of the aetheric pike.

“What are you waiting for!” He barked, towards Aveline, towards them all. “Help me!” 

The Astrologian burst into action, her star globe spinning calmly. Aveline was not calm. A flurry of spells left her lips, cards splayed on the ground. Blood soaked. Frantically, she cast and cast, pulling rapidly from the aether hanging in the air. When that ran dry, she drew from herself. Anything to save Danica. She would _not_ lose anyone else.

She hadn’t stopped screaming. If anything, she had just lost the ability to reach anything beyond a whisper in decibels. Yet she tried, her face was tear-stained, she tried. Her hands shook, frantically reaching towards them. Towards at first all of them, and then - 

He found in his legs movement, and soon that hand in his. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words had yet to catch up. Her wide, beautiful, mismatched eyes screamed for safety. Screamed of fears she’d never spoken. Screamed for anyone or anything to stop the pain. For safety, for shelter. Yet his shield could not offer her that now. 

She spoke then. Words as her grasp grew weaker, as he clasped his other hand to hers praying to the Fury that his strength would become hers. 

“Haurchefant, I’m scared.” 

Aveline knelt next to her friend, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. The Astrologian’s breath was heavy. She couldn’t continue like this for much longer, the constant spellcasting was taking its toll. Tears welled in her eyes as hope faded from her heart. Another. She would lose another in this godsforsaken war. Her words caught in her throat. How do you comfort a dying friend who would never again see their home?

You can’t. There are no words in the entire star that could ease that pain. 

In the distance, Haurchefant could hear the Archbishop command Zephirin set course for some distant location. He could hear the whirling engines stealing the villains away, winning them the day. 

Suddenly, he was aware of how very heavy his shield was upon his arm. And of how unforgivably useless it was. He was aware of the bloody streaks joining her tears, rushing down her face. Of each cough and wheeze and lurch. Like the flickering death of a candle, upon the end of its wick. 

She looked so afraid. So alone, even as they surrounded her. Tiny. Even as Aymeric caught up with them. Even as he held her hand in a vice grip, even as Aveline tried again and again to close the bleeding, open, gap in her body. Even as for the first time in his life, he saw true anguish upon the face of the Azure dragoon. 

From what little he knew, it must have felt like his soul was shattering. He wondered if it hurt more than seeing Lady Voss die in front of him. For no matter how bright her hope burned, Halone did not bless him with a fools blindness. He was losing her. They all were.

Aveline’s heart broke. Tears ran down her cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, Dee.” Her voice trembled, “It won’t hurt anymore.”

Her hands shook uncontrollably. She bowed her head, looking gently into the mismatched eyes of her friend. “It’ll be okay, Dee.” She tried to smile, a charade easily seen through but she continued it nonetheless. A hand lay gently on the Dragoon’s shoulder. Sleep.

Danica Voss, last and only child of Maerwynn Voss and Orlaux De Dzemael, stranger far far from any remains of her home, Sellsword, Mage, Friend looked up at Aveline and smiled. As death wrapped his thin arms around her and closed her eyes, dragging her away from the material far across the aether sea. She joined them, in a way. All of the Ala Mhigans before her, memorialized at the Tomb of the Errant Sword. But yet, it didn’t stop the bitterness as her eyes fluttered shut, and the spear disintegrated into rich blinding aether around her. 

Silence fell over them all as she slowly grew cold. As thick clouds covered the setting sun, and the threat of a blizzard forced them inside. As Estinien, refusing to allowing any closer, carried her, no her body, into the cathedral. Already aware of what it was like to have no family to mourn you. 

This silence was interrupted only by a sudden crack of thunder.

As even then, Rhalgr mourned.

**Author's Note:**

> We may have made ourselves cry, and then fought a primal, and then made ourselves cry again.
> 
> No biggie. 
> 
> Let's see how things potentially play out now.


End file.
